


Jump In the Line

by QuiksilverGirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But Probably More Smut, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Dry Humping, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 16:49:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30142602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuiksilverGirl/pseuds/QuiksilverGirl
Summary: In the summer following their pyrrhic victory at the Ministry, Hermione Granger plans and prepares for the war that is all but upon them. But in trying to help her friends enjoy what time they can, she lands herself in a bit of an awkward spot. Her merry machinations manage to inadvertently ensnare Severus Snape, who has all but hit his breaking point. One-shot (for now). Slightly AU
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 17
Kudos: 152





	Jump In the Line

**Author's Note:**

> Reference Materials:
> 
> Jump In the Line by Harry Belafonte: https://open.spotify.com/album/1o6SO1ywnIQgb3MFMF1siI?highlight=spotify:track:1zW2csx1vVJrKfvDrFQNVt 
> 
> Scene from Beetlejuice: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-0PkmeXxN68

It had been a rough summer, even by their standards.

When Hermione finally awoke in the Hospital Wing to a line of dull throbbing pain down her chest, she found out that they'd lost Sirius to the veil. With Harry forced to return to the Dursleys, they'd hardly had time to process their grief. And while going home had always been a much-needed reprieve from the stresses of her new world, the secrets she kept from her parents weighed heavily between them.

The Battle at the Ministry had confirmed what she'd been trying to willfully disbelieve after years of attacks and near misses. They were at war. And there would be casualties.

With Voldemort making his return public, there would be no reason for him to refrain from the terrorism and scare tactics he had come to be known for in the first war. Muggles would be targeted, particularly those with ties to the magical world.

When she asked the Headmaster what she could do to protect her parents, he haltingly offered to add protective wards to their house and offices. But she knew what he wasn't saying. As soon as they stepped outside those wards, they would be easily taken, killed, or worse.

As the only witch in her family, it was her responsibility to protect them from the threats of her world. And there were very few options when she knew they wouldn't leave her willingly. Any time she had even hinted at the current unrest, they'd been quick to propose unenrolling her from Hogwarts until she felt nearly forced to amend her comments with less controversial, if potentially less true, statements.

She first reviewed her third-year time turning journal and calculated the minute she would come of age. Now knowing she had only a couple of weeks to wait and to prepare, she spent every spare moment studying mind magics and making the arrangements that would be needed in the muggle world. While most wizards in Voldemort's ranks turned up their noses at anything muggle, having even a handful of Half-blood followers was too great a risk that one possessed the requisite knowledge to follow a poorly executed paper trail.

At 2 am on the dreary July day she biologically turned 17, Hermione awoke from her troubled sleep with the insistent buzzing of her magical alarm. She had already packed up her belongings and purchased her parents' plane tickets, so she spent the dark hours of the morning practicing the spell to modify their memories. If she did it without any mistakes, there would be a fair chance to reverse the effects someday. And that hope had to be enough for now.

The days following went in a bit of a blur as she sorted their belongings, prepared the house for sale, and moved into the small summer cottage in Devon her grandmother had left behind the year before. While it was exceedingly difficult to cast a fidelius as the Secret Keeper, it wasn't impossible… but it did take her an embarrassing three tries to get it to stick.

Finally able to catch her breath, she allowed herself a few days to settle in and mourn the hopefully temporary loss of her parents. Still, she knew she couldn't afford to spend long in avoidance. There was too much to do. But aside from that, she missed her friends and knew Harry especially likely needed her support even more than she needed his.

The Dursleys had not quite recovered from their last undesired magical guest who invited himself over at nearly midnight only days before. Only too happy to be rid of the "little freak" for any period of time after having been bullied into continued cohabitation with the boy, the incomparably unpleasant family was almost cheerful as they bustled the pair out the door.

Harry and Hermione didn't doubt for a moment that they were up to something, but didn't pause to question it. Harry for one was eager to escape from his belligerent jailors, and Hermione didn't particularly approve of the judgemental leer his oaf of a cousin kept sending her way. 

And so, it did not come as a total shock when upon returning from their impromptu ice cream run, they came upon a note pinned to the door of the now deserted house. Accompanied as it was by a small stack of luggage topped with a visibly disgruntled caged white owl, they hardly needed to bother reading it.

_Harry._

_Tell that Bumblebore fellow that you'll need to find somewhere else to stay. I was called away suddenly for work. Petunia and Dudley are touring universities. I've done you the favor of packing your things._

_Uncle Vernon_

Rather than being offended or angry, this turn of events had only served to further lift Harry's mood. Grabbing Hedwig's cage to pull under his cloak with him, he offered Hermione a cheery thanks as she shrunk and pocketed his chest and luggage. After a quick, if challenging, bus trip later the pair stumbled through the floo at the Leaky Cauldron into the happy chaos of the Burrow.

Hermione wasn't quite ready to talk about her parents and knew doing so would only serve to further emphasize the grave situation they all found themselves in. However, other than a quick question from Mrs. Weasley, who was allayed with a distracted, "Oh, it was already arranged with them," no one bothered to question Hermione's presence.

So, once again reunited with Ron, the trio did their best to forget the ruin looming just out of sight and enjoy themselves. After only a few days at the Burrow, however, the fawning attention that Harry had once coveted had become fairly unbearable. And so, the group had taken to moving back and forth between there and Grimmauld with regular frequency. This also afforded them the freedom necessary to sneak out for several day trips which did wonders to raise their spirits.

It was on one such excursion after having spent the afternoon in an old muggle cinema that the light-hearted comradery got Hermione in trouble.

Not real trouble, per se… but she knew better than to agree to questionable bets with the boys. Had she learned nothing of self-preservation around Fred and George?

Instead, riding the high of sugary confections and good humor, her innate competitiveness saw her agreeing to what she had thought the safest of bets. Beyond stupid really. She'd not even paused to add conditions or consider any number of loopholes. Surely, she knew better.

But the pained half-smiles that had been plaguing her best friends had finally melted into true merriment, their eyes tearing along with hers as they guffawed and giggled the day away. And so, when Ron managed to get five out of five girls' numbers employing no magic (the berk had said he was hoping to get some advice on a present for his girlfriend who he thought would love their shirt, necklace, "hair thingee", and so on), she was thoroughly put out.

And of course, it wasn't a small thing she'd agreed to, oh no. Any counter offers she made were promptly dismissed. Though, perhaps she was lucky they'd gone to see the movie "Beetlejuice" that day. Godrick only knows what they might have asked of her had they chosen a theater showing newer movies with more elaborate special effects. The next several nights saw her shoving them through the floo to the Burrow so that she could practice what she needed to.

And it was bloody hard! Not to mention the parts she simply couldn't make happen… There were no ghosts at Grimmauld. Not that she could imagine them willing to agree to her absurd request had they existed. Instead, she opted to write off certain details and add her own. The part of her that loved to show off teamed up with her perfectionist nature as she ran herself nearly ragged getting everything just right.

And it wasn't as if everything she was doing was entirely useless. While yes, the whole bet was positively ridiculous, she could admit that this was fantastic training of not only her magical capacity and control but also her somewhat neglected physical conditioning and coordination. Besides, she knew that even if it cost her considerable time and pride, it had a good chance of dispelling the shadows from her best friends, if only for a short while.

It was a night only two weeks later she told them she was ready, but they better not interrupt. And they better pay attention! She would not be doing this again.

Having ensured no other Order members were in the house, Hermione marched out of the kitchen, leaving behind her two thoroughly scolded compatriots still doing a terrible job of hiding their excited laughter. She smiled widely in spite of their teasing. It was so nice to have them happy again.

* * *

The rage and pain were barely simmering under the surface as Severus Snape stepped through the green flames in the dusty kitchen at Grimmauld Place. He couldn't believe what Albus had done!

He was supposed to be one of the greatest wizards alive! How then was it that he had so casually sealed his fate with a most obviously cursed ring?!? What in Merlin's name had tempted him to take such a foolish risk?

And if that wasn't enough, after admitting to Severus that he knew there was no cure and asking for any extra time the younger wizard could buy him, he _proposed_ (and wasn't that a fucking joke as proposals tend to offer an element of choice) that they could use this opportunity to secure Severus more firmly among the Death Eater elite. All that must be done is for Severus to murder him.

_Oh is that fucking all, you old crackpot?!_

And the icing in the cauldron cake? In lieu of allowing the distraught man time to process the news, Dumbledore had the audacity to send him through to fetch the blundering duo and then subject himself to what was sure to be an endless barrage of questions as he directed Miss Granger in her task. At least the chit had a brain. Perhaps if he could silence her for the night, his nerves might recover enough to not throttle her.

Lofty aspirations, indeed.

But were any of the infantile imbeciles at the Burrow, where they should be?! Of course not. How could they possibly add to his misery were they to spare him the pleasure of jumping from floo to floo to play messenger bird? At least two of the three had the decency to not be gamboling about, sitting rather stupidly as they were at the table staring at a closed door. Had they finally lost what scant capacity for original thought they managed to scrape from the dregs of the corroded cauldrons they called skulls? Must they wait like the mindless cretins they often proved themselves to be for Miss Granger to give them leave to take a piss or remind them to scratch their bullocks?

Okay, so perhaps he was dealing with a near-lethal dose of misdirected rage. Acknowledging the fact did little to stifle the urge to grab them by their scruffs and toss them through the floo with no explanation what. so. ever. Their aggrieved looks would afford a lovely bit of schadenfreude.

But as tattered as he felt inside, he simply could not stand to add further stress to the situation. He'd send them off, meet with the girl, and _finally_ lock himself in his dungeon rooms and crawl into a bottle of firewhisky. Because fucking hell did he need a drink.

"I do so hate to interrupt your game of _Who Can Be More Profoundly Useless?_ , as I've not before witnessed such fierce competition. Unfortunately, we'll need to crown you both equally worthless, as the Headmaster has asked that you join him presently."

Yes, that actually _was_ the best he could do to curb his black mood.

Startling at his words as they should have at his entrance, the whelps puffed up defiantly in their seats, wearing their entitlement like a badge of honor. But their ignorance clearly begged for a further outlet as the slightly more ape-ish of the two bit out, "What are you doing here anyway? Don't you have someone else to bother?"

It really was a wonder how some wizards survived their own incompetence as long as they did. Reminding himself that further baiting them would only mean more time spent in their company, he tried to reply in a calm, steady tone, "I assure you, that I would welcome any other company before your own, but as I said, I was tasked with notifying the two of you that you are expected in the Headmaster's office. Now."

Forestalling what was sure to be another poorly phrased act of defiance, Potter put a restraining hand on the redhead's shoulder, "I'll just go fetch Mione."

It was truly beyond his comprehension how the witch could stand these two. He had said it twice now, yet the message still didn't seem to properly resonate in their impressively hollow heads, "You will not. Miss Granger has a different task awaiting her. And the Headmaster insisted you come immediately. Take this floo directly to the one in his office, he has opened it for only a five-minute window for you to come through."

Seeing the dark-haired boy inhale as if to offer further protests, he soundly cut him off, "This is not up for discussion, Mr. Potter. Go. Now."

Sending heated glares at the dour man who'd all but dismissed them before walking past to retrieve a glass from the cupboard, the two younger wizards hastened to the floo. Before they disappeared into the green flames, he heard and promptly ignored the petulant grumble, "She's going to bloody well kill us."

Facing the door to the hall, he sunk heavily into one of the vacated chairs at the end of the table. Taking in the odd assortment of dishes and cutlery set about the room, he filled his glass with aguamenti. It wouldn't do to become as blisteringly drunk as he'd like to until he sat down to talk with the girl. Fortunately, between the blessed quiet and the cool water, his temper finally came to heel.

Now that he could consider the situation further, he had to admit a morbid curiosity as to what they'd been up to. His musings were interrupted by a sort of _plunk_ sound coming from a spoon tapping one of the glasses to his side.

The note rang briefly and was soon followed by another, then another, several cupboards and drawers now opening and closing in a steady beat. Had it not been for the nearly incomparably horrid night he'd had thus far, he might have been tempted to smile as he recognized the old tune beginning to come together.

The next moment, he distractedly set his half-finished drink on the table before him at the staticky buzz of the wizarding wireless coming alive from the corner to add the expected trumpet shrill to the mix. Next, the hands of the clock at the end of the galley kitchen began spinning madly.

If he hadn't moments ago left Albus in such terrible shape that such a grand magical demonstration was highly inadvisable, if not far closer to impossible, he would have attributed the playful display to one of his more whimsical moods.

A creeping suspicion that he knew who was in fact responsible was quickly dismissed. The witch in question, while clever, couldn't possibly be controlling and coordinating… he counted eighteen linked charms and one robust enchantment with such precision. Besides, she was underage and thanks to the trace, quite unable to perform the simplest of spells without being flagged by the Ministry.

As the deep bellows of Harry Belafonte echoed in the room, the door he was facing opened to admit the young witch in question dressed in what was certainly not school-approved garb and dancing to the beat. Wand already in hand in reaction to her sudden entrance, he was about to end this foolishness, when a rather shocking detail occurred to him.

Her feet weren't touching the floor.

His initial instinct was to be most thoroughly impressed. But the cynical side of his mind wouldn't allow the easy admission of such. She was obviously being helped by someone. And yet… Relaxing his Occlumency shields enough to reach out and sense the magic around him, he was shocked to concede that it all seemed to share the same magic signature. Hers.

His analysis of the situation was then most thoroughly derailed as his eyes dropped to focus on the well-developed hips that gyrated and snapped in punctuation to the lyrics. Her costume, for it could be called nothing else, wasn't scandalous per se. It did, however, offer a far more uninhibited view of lightly tanned skin than Severus could recall seeing in more years than he'd like to admit.

The white ruffles on the edges of the low slung red skirt only seemed to enhance the vibrancy of the color. And while it did hang mercifully down to right above the knee, it cruelly did not stay that way. With each spin the fabric twirled higher, teasingly displaying lightly toned thighs.

Swallowing hard as he forced his eyes past the rest of the ensemble to her face, he was startled to see her normally disastrous hair had been piled in a bounty of curls atop her head showing off her long neck. Her eyes were closed and her glistening brow was slightly furrowed in heavy concentration, but her red-painted lips were lifted in a self-satisfied smile.

His gaze unwittingly followed a drop of sweat that trailed down her neck to the smallest hint of cleavage above the matching red and white top. The short ruffled sleeves dipped lazily off her shoulders, but the sweetheart neckline was in all honesty fairly modest. It was the length of the thing that was the problem.

That cut and fit left nothing to the imagination, and he was unable to look away from where it contoured closely to her womanly curves. The top was cropped short, and scarcely below her breastbone, a healed-over purple scar peeked out. His eyes were glued to the radiant flesh below writhing in time to the music.

While some part of him distantly noted classes with the girl were likely to become distinctly uncomfortable, the selfish side of him had already decided to accept the gift he was being given. After all, things like this just didn't happen to men like him.

And with everything falling down around him, not to mention the torment he knew was yet to come, he'd likely need to cling to memories like this in order to keep moving forward. Merlin, what a sad existence his life had become.

As lovely as the whole picture made to be, it was the dip from waist to hip that held him entranced. His mouth watered as he imagined the soft flesh under his tongue, the muscles bunching with each sharply punctuated snap of her hips. His blood continued to flow further south in time with her hands as they traced down the lines of her body.

But as he was reaching beneath the table towards the straining placket of his trousers, thinking to palm himself to some small relief, her eyes peeked open to glance towards her audience.

In the next instant, silver thudded dully against the wooden counters and stone floor, the music from the wireless muted to empty static, cupboards and drawers ceased to keep time, while the startled witch before him missed a step and ended up a disarrayed heap on the floor. His hand abandoned its earlier mission to gently rest on his thigh as he watched her pull herself up to her feet.

He might have been insulted if he weren't so very amused by her darting eyes and trembling tone, "P-Professor Snape! Where are Harry and Ron?"

Drawing himself taller in his seat and crossing his arms about his chest in displeasure he for once couldn't muster, "They've been summoned the Headmaster. Care to explain what I've just witnessed? I'd like to understand why you felt this demonstration worth your expulsion due to underage magic use. Did you learn nothing from the events of the last summer?"

It didn't actually bring him the satisfaction he'd hoped when her impossibly wide eyes began swimming in tears, "That's not… I'm not… There was…"

She seemed entirely unable to form a coherent sentence, so he took the opportunity to slip into her thoughts with a silent spell.

_Merlin! I can't tell him about the time-turner, can I? Dumbledore never gave me permission to. But he's bound to realize I'm of age when a Ministry owl fails to appear. Not to mention, I doubt he wants to hear about the asinine bet I lost. I can hear him calling me a dunderhead now for submitting myself to such stupidity. And even if he's seen muggle movies, this whole scene won't make any sense._

_Oh! I'm going to kill the boys! Harry in particular… Voldemort need not bother himself. 'Harry Potter was murdered in a fit of rage by his bookish sidekick, who then promptly died of shame.' I can't believe he would do this to me! Ron, Ron I'd believe to be this cruel, but Harry?! He promised to not make fun of my crush on the man, and then arranged for him to see me make an idiot out of myself?_

_No. Don't jump to conclusions. Professor Snape said they were called away. You can worry about them later._

_How can I fix this? Well, obviously, I can't really. Short of obliviating him and myself, and that's not exactly an option on the table, now is it? Ok, well… All you can do is apologize and pray he doesn't see you as a complete idiot after this._

If he thought she was loquacious in his classes, that was nothing compared to the speed at which her mind moved from thought to thought. In fact, it took him several moments to fully process and digest everything he'd observed. So, by the time she'd regained at least partial control over her emotions and offered a murmured, "I'm so sorry you had to see that, Professor Snape," two considerably profound facts rang through his mind.

She was of age. Likely just past the cusp and he would most certainly be having words with Albus about a student using a bloody time-turner, but she was technically an adult… and therefore legal.

Not something he generally bothered learning about his students. Legal or not, the thought of bedding any of the puerile idiots to grace his classroom was most off-putting. Indeed, the few passingly intelligent exceptions to approach him over the years seemed to have more in common with a blind niffler than a potential bedfellow; either desperately seeking to gain something from him or clumsily pawing about his person. These annoyances were solved easily by no less than a month of detentions at the nonexistent mercies of Argus Filch.

He was sure that there were likely adult witches possessed of passable charms and brains, perhaps some that could be persuaded to give him the time of day. But as he'd been somewhat distracted playing the rope in a near lifelong game of tug-o-war, he'd not wasted efforts verifying their existence.

But recalling his ungainly teenaged years before his life had well and truly taken that final step towards hell on earth, he found the second fact gleaned from her mind a touch harder to conceive… she was interested in him, with no thought as to what she could gain from him. Despite his surly nature and neglected looks, she actually liked him. No, not only liked him, found him attractive. Following that trail of thought past memories of her fixation on his hands, her shivering, most emphatically not from fear, at the sound of his growled admonitions, he found a surprising number of constructed memories… fantasies. _And oh my, wasn't that interesting._

The little witch had a bit of an authority kink now didn't she?

And while there was limited evidence to indicate much in the way of practical experience, he was assured that there would be no awkward fumbling to endure. The witch had a veritable checklist of activities she was eager to try. And the ones she'd already marked off, she'd only done so once self-graded as 'Acceptable' or better. He rather liked the idea of offering her a second opinion.

"Come here, Miss Granger"

Now knowing what to look for, it was exceedingly easy to catch the sharp intake of her breath, the distinct dilation of her pupils, and, _Sweet Circe, he could smell it…_ there intertwined with her normal scent as she approached, the full-bodied aroma of her arousal combining with the sour tang of sweat and soft cornflower vanilla of her soap to craft a most delicious bouquet. His cock lurched in its confinement.

When she stood less than a meter away, he drawled boredly, "I can only presume from the lack of aggressively worded letters to arrive that you are, in fact, of age. Therefore, you should be offering recompense for this transgression as an adult witch. Any objections?"

"N-none, sir. How can I make this up to you?"

Pushing back sharply from the table, his wood chair made an echoing screech against the stone floor eliciting a flinch from the waiting witch. Her surprised brown eyes caught on the prominent tenting of his trousers before cutting once again to his own, "First, I think a little discipline is in order. It was after all, rather careless of you to not check to see who you might be imposing upon with your… exhibition. As such, I feel it's only fitting that I take you over my lap and turn your bare bottom as red as your skirt. Wouldn't you agree?"

She seemed to alternate between forgetting to breathe and upon remembering herself, taking great greedy gasps as she nodded and moved until the hem of her skirt was brushing along the top of his thigh. As she made to bend forward, he stopped her advance with a hand on her waist, "A moment, Miss Granger. First, remove your panties and give them to me."

He was a trifle concerned that this would be pushing the witch too far, but as her trembling hands disappeared under her skirt to comply, but the nearly overwhelming scent of arousal that followed the scrap of fabric's descent assured him that they were very much on the same page. Standing up slowly with the bit of white and red lace in hand, she extended it out for him to take.

But he'd not make it quite so easy for her, "Place them in my trouser pocket."

She paused only slightly before reaching forward with both hands, one to lift the flap of the pocket enough for the other to slide the fabric in. While not entirely surprised, he was very pleased that she made sure to push it well beyond the opening, her knuckles grazing along his erection through the thin pocket fabric.

Absently, it occurred to him that, were this night to go no further, this encounter had already managed to rank quite securely among the most enjoyable he could recall. But any question in his mind as to precisely how far he wanted to take this evaporated as the little lioness proudly showed her true colors.

Her hand that had begun its retreat, pushed once again deeper into his pocket. Fingertips dragging quite intentionally down and back up his eager prick as she murmured, "Just making sure they're quite secure, sir."

After another such caress, she removed her hands from his person and stepped to stand where the fronts of her legs pushed against the side of his left thigh, "Very Good, Miss Granger. Please allow me to help you get into position."

Instead of bending her forward across his lap as she seemed to be expecting, his left arm snaked about her waist to secure her, while his right slid around her left thigh to pull it past his legs. Once she was properly straddling his lap, both of his hands released her briefly to bunch her skirt about her waist. Starting in the front, he pulled it from between their bodies, until he could feel her wet heat pressed tightly to his overtaxed placket. Next, calloused fingers dragged along her exposed midriff to wind a path behind her where he tucked the extra fabric into her waistband before splaying his hands on the freshly exposed globes of her ass.

Her hips shifted forward of their own volition at the contact, nearly stealing his breath as her weight settled more fully on his desperate cock. Her hands fell lightly to his shoulders to steady herself, as she questioned, "But, sir. What if someone sees us?"

To be entirely honest, at this moment, he was having a rather difficult time finding it within himself to care. Years of abstaining from any semblance of a real life in favor of being universally hated and shunned had finally culminated in a night where he'd been coerced to agree to ruin his very soul by murdering his mentor so that he might attain an even higher degree of infamy. Albus's betrayal in extracting such a promise had cut terribly deep.

To closely follow such an all-time low with the unexpected boon that had now fallen into his lap (panty-less in his lap, he smugly added) was a temptation he felt disinclined to ignore. On his heavily burdened moral scale, trading pleasures with an eager, young (but still mercifully _adult_ ) witch could only be counted a good thing. _Oh, such a very good thing when she circled her hips like that._

The searing heat he felt radiating through to his lap was distracting enough, but that was nothing compared to how his sensitive cock could feel her repeatedly fluttering muscles pressed against it. Forcing himself to properly consider her query, he had to acknowledge that their location was less than ideal, and an interruption was the last thing he wanted, "I suppose we must endeavor to handle your discipline with haste so that we might move to a more appropriate venue for the remainder of your apology."

Every few words, he punctuated with another slight thrust of his hips as his fierce grip on her ass held her in place, "Y-yes, please, sir."

"I think, for now, ten on both cheeks will do", and without further warning, both of his hands lifted from her supple flesh before swinging back with a resounding smack. A startled yelp escaped her lips as her body relatively jumped at the pain, bouncing her quite nicely again on his prick. Waiting a moment to let the sensation sink in, he delivered the next three smacks to both cheeks in rapid succession. _Good gods, did that feel good_. If only he didn't have his damned clothing in the way.

Marshaling his patience, and looking to see how she was handling the pain, he was pleased to note that while he wasn't using too much force, he was clearly using enough for her to be glaze-eyed and panting. He knew he best finish this quickly as tossing her down onto the kitchen table and chasing his own pleasure in that sweet-smelling quim of hers was becoming far too tempting an option.

His hands massaged her warm ass lightly, eliciting a throaty moan from the witch before they continued with five more somewhat light smacks culminating with a moderately heavy one. His eyes went wide as accompanying her groan of pained pleasure, he felt the front of his trousers positively flood with her juices. It was only several centering breaths as he tightly hugged the witch immobile to his chest that saved him from coming undone right then and there. _Bloody hell, if that wasn't the sexist thing he'd ever experienced in his entire miserable existence!_

Once he managed to calm his body sufficiently to consider the best destination for the evening, a sound that to some might seem like a disgruntled whine escaped his lips. Fortunately, Severus Snape did not make such noises, so clearly it must have been something else.

Still, the realization that prompted it left him less than reassured. Wormtail, the bastard, was still lurking about Spinner's End. Taking her to his chambers at Hogwarts would surely tempt Albus's interference, injured or not. And staying at Grimmauld would risk interruptions in the form of nosy Order members and eventually her two hapless hangers-on. His head fell forward to rest on her shoulder in frustrated defeat, as he rapidly felt this night coming to an abrupt end.

When she made to pull away from him slightly, he let her, sliding his hands to hold her waist, but he kept his head hanging down. Two soft warm hands slid beneath the curtain of his hair to gently hold his now stubbled cheeks, applying light pressure to encourage him to look up. Acquiescing to her demand, he met her concerned gaze, "What's wrong?"

With the slimmest of hope that the brilliant witch was able to think of a solution he missed, he admitted, "I can think of no reasonably safe location we might go to be alone with any semblance of privacy."

He finally noticed the tension that had suffused her form as it faded completely, and looked to see a rather stunning smile sent his way, "Oh, is that all? I was sure you'd suddenly come to your senses and were regretting this."

He hadn't managed to fully recover from the unexpected fluttering in his chest when she pulled his face to her still smiling lips and captured his.

Severus Snape was not a blushing virgin. While never as debauched as many of his comrades, he took many of the opportunities afforded him as a young up-and-coming Death Eater as was his due. It was only shortly before Lily's death that he began to really see what was actually happening around him. The fear, the manipulations, the power struggles. Suddenly everything he'd worked so hard to achieve was cast in a harsh, revealing light. None of the physical attention he'd enjoyed throughout his life could boast even a trace of true affection.

And the choices he'd made in life had all but ensured they never would.

So when this beautiful, brilliant, powerful, compassionate witch kissed him the way he'd long since given up dreaming about, something rusted deep inside of him shifted loose.

His lips moved slowly, carefully against hers, as he feared ruining this seemingly fragile thing he was being gifted. He only just held back the disappointed plea from leaving his throat as she broke away, her beaming face retreating a very narrow distance from his own, "I think I have an idea."

Leaning in again, he rather liked the way her breathy whisper teased the skin of his ear, "Hermione Granger lives at Otter's Corner, Branscombe, East Devon"

Moving back once more and looking down, it was obvious she was a bit nervous as she admitted, "I've not bothered to get my apparation license yet. I didn't want to draw undue attention to my age. And I've not connected the cottage to the floo. It's a little over 3 hours away by bus. Is there any way you can apparate us at least nearer to there?"

The hopeful look she sent his way, had him leaning in to steal another kiss. But he didn't let himself linger as he so desperately wanted to. Instead, a voice far too gravelly to be his own ground out, "If you bring the image up in your mind…and let me look, I could apparate us there without delay."

Her already flushed cheeks seemed to redden noticeably further, but a nervous smile lifted her lips as she nodded.

Forcing himself to relinquish their seated position, he used his grip on her waist to help her stand before following her to his feet. The cooler air now sliding between them made their lost connection a tangible thing, and he found himself pulling her tightly against him. His left hand slid up her body to gently caress her cheek as he leaned down to steal another delicate brush of her lips. 

But try as he might to delay his desires, she was apparently not of the same mind. Her lips parted as her soft tongue traced the seam of his mouth before finding entry and seeking out his own. His grip on her tightened, dragging her impossibly closer. One of her hands moved up his chest to grasp the cloth there, while her other moved to caress the nape of his neck, her fingertips twining through the silky hair at the base of his skull.

As the intensity of the kiss grew, the notion of ending it became less and less appealing. It wasn't until her demanding hand fisted his hair and he felt the resulting tightening in his bollocks, that he managed to force himself to take an abrupt step back. The pinched concern on her face melted into arousal as he managed, "Hermione. Get your things. We need to leave now."

"Oh!" It was obvious when her brain began its forward motion once more as she quickly looked around the room, mumbling softly. Swishing her wand, she sent dishes and glasses where they belonged, and with a flick towards the wizarding wireless, it turned off with a snick of its dial. She hesitated only slightly before pointing her wand at her clothes, returning them to the red vest and white cotton sleep shorts they were before. Only a handful of moments had passed when an unappealing beaded bag came sailing in through the open doorway to her waiting palm.

As if part of the same fluid motion, she reached shoulder-deep into the small handbag, retrieving parchment and a slightly chewed muggle pen, as she explained, "The boys don't know about the cottage, but if I just disappear, they're likely to do something horribly stupid like…"

Her words faded, but they both knew exactly what she was referring to. Not bothering to mask his intentions, he moved behind her to crowd her with the full length of his body as she leaned over the table scribbling her note. His lips and teeth dragged along the still exposed column of her throat, as he observed, but mostly impeded, her progress on her amusing missive.

_Harry & Ron, _

_If you are reading this, then I've decided not to forgive you just yet for the humiliation I've suffered tonight. I mean, really, neither one of you could have called up to me that you were leaving, and oh yeah, maybe mention the alternate audience you left in your place! Thanks for that._

_I've gone home for a bit to cool off and decide how nasty of a hex each of you deserves for this. Needless to say, my part of the bet was satisfied, and if either of you thinks to breathe a word of a repeat performance, I'll transfigure you both into stink bugs, and hunt down Skeeter so you all can share a painfully small, unbreakable jar for the rest of the summer._

_Don't test me._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

_PS - Take proper care of Crookshanks for me while I'm gone and I might just see my way to forgiving you before we graduate. And maybe, if I have a particularly relaxing UNINTERRUPTED visit home, perhaps I'll even forgive you enough to bring back those muggle chocolates you both love._

Arching her back and tilting her neck to offer more flesh to his questing mouth, she groaned, "You know, that's a tad bit distracting when I'm trying to be all angry and vengeful."

Allowing only a moment's interruption to his efforts, he replied, "Am I supposed to be sorry?"

"Hardly. Merely an observation. Are you ready?", she nearly preened under his continued attention.

Bending slightly to grind his heavy erection against the crease of her ass, he growled to the shell of her ear, "Witch, I am quite beyond ready. If there's to be much more of a delay, we run the risk of spliching off a rather requisite bit of my anatomy."

Taking his hand and pulling him with her out the garden door, she grinned, "Well, we certainly can't have that, can we?"

Once standing a step past the wards in the overgrown yard behind 12 Grimmauld Place, Hermione turned to him, the corner of her mouth twitching up, "I'm picturing it"

Diving into her mind he could indeed see a small lightly furnished sitting room warmed by the glow of a hearth. What he hadn't expected to find was the quite naked couple entwined on the plush carpet before the fire. Her head was tilted back in abandon as his mouth attacked her tight nipple. Stands of straight black hair dragged in slithering patterns across her chest briefly blocking his view of her gorgeous tits. His pale skin nearly luminous in the orange light of the fire, he relinquished his prize only to tongue his way past her scar to bestow worship on her other breast as his remarkably detailed fingers dexterously traced a path down her arched abdomen.

Mustering his well-trained mental disciplines, he determinedly focused on the details of the room around him. Now confident that he could make their jump unmarred, he jerked the little temptress tight against him, "You think you're funny witch? You just earned yourself another spanking."

Her wanton whimper was the only thing left of them in the dreary garden as they spun into nothingness.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note  
> Once upon a time, there was an exceedingly stubborn plot bunny. This bunny was relentless and demanded a scene where Hermione is at Grimmauld Place performing Jump In the Line a la Beetlejuice when caught by Severus. 
> 
> Fine, I said. I'll write you a smutty one-shot, I said.
> 
> But as plot bunnies are not known for their patience, instead of placidly waiting for delivery, by the time this 'one-shot' was done, it had already proliferated a mountain of related plot bunnies eager to add chapters.
> 
> And as I suffered the indecision of should I, shouldn't I?, my fantastic beta, [Jalapeño Eye-Popper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jalapeno_eye_popper/profile), very reasonably suggested, "Why not polish it up, put it out there, and ask your readers if they want more?"
> 
> So, would you like more? 
> 
> And if yes, would you prefer a handful of smutty goodness? Or a handful of smutty goodness with a legit plotline pushing it through to the other side of the war?
> 
> There was never going to be a Smut-free option. Sorry, not sorry.
> 
> Fun Fact: Otter's Corner is an actual cottage (I'll just be adjusting it slightly if necessary) : https://www.jeanbartlettcottageholidays.co.uk/devon-cottages/cottages-in-branscombe/jbotte-otters-corner


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